Safe
by Saxifrace v. 2
Summary: “They’re dead, Hermione!” Harry exploded, making the room fall silent again, but he didn’t care. “They’re all dead, and it’s because of me!"


**Safe  
**

****

The seventh year boys' dorm was quiet. At least…from the outside it was. Inside, it was filled with exploding laughter as Ginny, giggling, attempted to balance her empty butter beer bottle on her chin. Being the only sixth year invited to the gathering, she had to prove her worthiness to be there. Chugging two bottles had been enough, but Dean thought it would be fun to have her act like a seal as well.

He and Seamus sat with Ginny, almost choking with laughter. Neville and Lavender were having an animated conversation about Herbology. Ron, Parvati, and Hermione were playing exploding snap. And good times were being had by all. All but one.

Harry Potter sat on his four-poster bed, curtains closed. He didn't mind that the others were celebrating being back at school. He was just perfectly content with being withdrawn into his depressing thoughts.

"Harry, can I come in?" a soft voice asked, before a hand drew one of the curtains aside. Harry glanced over, forcing a smile as Hermione peeked her head in. She took the smile as a good sign and crawled onto the bed to sit in front of him. "Aren't you going to come out and join the party?"

"No," he replied, gazing back steadily. Hermione frowned at his lack of explanation, prodding for something more from her best friend of seven years.

"Why not?"

"I don't want to party," he answered without a thought. Hermione stayed silent this time, watching him. He knew what she was thinking. That's why he didn't want to come out.

"Harry, it's not your fault…" she tried to say, but he cut her off fiercely, voice louder than he expected it to be.

"Yes, it bloody well **is**!" he yelled. The party on the other side of the curtains fell silent, and Hermione gave Harry as sad look. Harry bit the inside of his cheek and looked away. The noise gradually returned, and it was only then that he would look back at Hermione.

"…It's not, Harry. Even if you weren't my friend, I would have been marked. I don't blame you at all."

"You should. You lost your parents because of me."

Hermione gave Harry an exasperated look, crossing her arms. "I told you, it's not your fault!"

"They're **dead**, Hermione!" Harry exploded, making the room fall silent again, but he didn't care. "They're all dead, and it's because of me! Because of who I am. Cedric died because of my bloody nobility. Sirius is dead because of my rash behavior. And your parents are dead because you're friends with **me**." Tears of frustration were streaming down his face at this point, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered Ron's voice herding everyone from the dormitory. "It's my. fucking. fault," he choked out, chest burning. Hermione cried quietly as she sat there.

Ron somberly brushed the curtain aside to sit on the bed next to Hermione. "Harry… It wasn't you. It was Voldemort. He's the reason all of that happened. Not you. **Never** you."

"But…" Harry looked hopelessly at his best friends, the ones who had been beside him every step of the way. Hermione, with her eyes sparkling with tears. Ron, his face uncharacteristically serious. And Harry couldn't fight any more. "It hurts so bad," he whimpered, before doubling over and sobbing brokenly.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione murmured, hugging the boy tightly. Ron awkwardly joined in, and they sat like that as Harry released everything he had been holding in for the past three years. Trembling hands clung to his friends. Hermione stroked Harry's back tenderly, and Ron let him sob against his shoulder.

After what felt like hours, Harry sagged tiredly against his friends, tears quieted to whimpers. Hermione gave Ron a look over his head, a look that plainly said that they couldn't leave him alone tonight.

"Come on, Harry," she whispered softly, sitting him up and unfastening his robes. Ron shrugged off his own robes, kicking off his shoes.

"Let's try and get some sleep," the redhead mumbled, helping Hermione guide Harry into lying down. The brunette protested weakly, but the two ignored him, laying on either side of him. Hermione put a finger over his lips, snuggling up against his front. Ron pressed against his back, draping an arm over Harry's waist.

"Goodnight, Harry. 'Night Ron," Hermione murmured, closing her eyes. Ron grunted a reply, pressing his face against Harry's shoulder. Harry lay there stiffly for a long moment. Ron's arm tightened around his waist, and Hermione sighted contentedly, resting a hand over Harry's wildly beating heart.

It was…different. It was crowded. It was warm. It was…nice. Harry closed his eyes, letting himself relax. This was how it should be. Safe.


End file.
